


‘Tis the Damn Season

by mr_blue_alien



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Author apologises for everything, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Jewish Character, Charles Xavier Needs a Hug, Charles Xavier in a Wheelchair, Christmas fic, Erik Lehnsherr Has Feelings, Erik Lehnsherr Loves Charles Xavier, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, I just want them to be happy, M/M, Mutant Husbands, Parent Erik Lehnsherr, dadneto, implied internalized homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28522128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr_blue_alien/pseuds/mr_blue_alien
Summary: It’s Christmas in 1969, seven years after Cuba. Lilandra Neramani proposes to Charles Xavier, but she finds out that he still loves Erik Lehnsherr, breaking off their relationship. He wishes he could be able to go back in time and change what happened in Cuba, and as he does, he finds Santa Claus - an old mutant with a desire to make other people happy - in his room. Charles thinks he’s gone mad. But when he wakes up to a new life with Erik by his side, he finds that his wish may have come true.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Lilandra Neramani/Charles Xavier
Comments: 48
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Christmas movie that was playing in Christmas Day and I thought hmmm this but cherik mayhaps? And then I couldn’t get it out of my head so I wrote this aberration, I’m so sorry. 
> 
> Fic title taken from the song by Taylor Swift (it was just perfect, I couldn’t NOT). If you have no knowledge of the comics don’t worry, I’m only using elements from there to build the story. (At some point writing one of the later chapters I discovered Santa Claus was actually a canon mutant character in the comicverse and I was just left there like ??? accidentally wrote canon Santa Claus into my fic I guess??)

_December 24th, 1969_

  
  


“Professor? Professor X?”

Charles woke from his stupor and looked up at the sound of his name (that silly name, he didn’t know why Hank had started saying it around the students to the point it was his most prominently used name), finding Kitty Pryde looking at him from the door to his study. He tried smiling at her, ever so gentle with his students despite his actual anxious mood. 

“Yes, Kitty, is anything the matter?”

“There’s an incoming transmission from the Shi’ar Empire, sir. Professor McCoy is waiting for you in the kitchen.”

Charles sighed. If they were receiving a transmission from the Shi’ar Empire, it was most definitely Lilandra on the other end. Majestrix Lilandra, Lux Gloriana of the Shi’ar. Also his fiancée.

“Thank you Kitty. You should be going to bed now, it’s late, and you don’t want to keep Illyana waiting, do you?” Charles smiled, thinking of Kitty’s roommate and “best friend” (though Charles, being a telepath, knew perfectly well of their growing mutual affection), Illyana Rasputin. 

Kitty blushed a little under the dim light and grinned. “No, sir.”

“Well then, off you go. See you in the morning, Kitty.”  
  
“See you, Professor.” 

As Kitty left, Charles wheeled out of his study and made his way towards the kitchen, wondering what his fiancée from another galaxy needed to communicate to him. He didn’t sense worry or panic from Hank’s mind in the kitchen, and he hadn’t sensed it from Kitty either, so he wasn’t very concerned that it could be an emergency. No, this was probably just a social call. 

The first thing he noticed when he arrived at the kitchen was the blue glow coming from the holographic image of a tall woman who he knew to be Lilandra. He spotted Hank from across the room at the opposite side of the table as he spoke to the holographic image of Lilandra. 

“-think he will not - oh, Charles, you’re here! Good, I’ll leave you two alone then.” Hank walked across the room and, once he was close to him, gave Charles a knowing look through his glasses and a pat on the shoulder before he left. 

Charles scowled at Hank’s suspicious attitude before he relaxed his features and looked up at the hologram as Lilandra turned around to meet his gaze.

“Charles, my love, how are you?”

Charles gave a slightly forced smile before he replied. “I’m very good, thank you, Lilandra. How’s politics?”

Lilandra smiled as she shook her head. “Dearest, I’m not calling to discuss politics for once. Though I love caring and fighting for the Empire, sometimes all a monarch needs is to separate themself from their responsibilities.” She sighed. “No, I wanted to communicate something of greater import.”  
  


Charles raised his eyebrows in playful disbelief. “Oh, really?”  
  
She rolled her eyes, a strange expression on her normally serious and controlled face. “All right, maybe not greater than the Empire. It’s something of a more personal nature, actually.” She took in a breath. If he didn’t know her better, Charles would have said she was nervous. But this was Lilandra: she was _never_ nervous. “Charles, I’ve been thinking and… well, if I might be so bold, I think it’s time we were married. I have been pondering our current engagement status, and I believe we’re both ready to make our union official. With that said…” She cleared her throat. “Will you, Charles Francis Xavier, take me as your wife so that I, Majestrix Lilandra Neramani, might expand the Empire and thus strengthen it, as is my duty, with your people, the _Homo sapiens superior_? Will you, in turn, accept your responsibilities that correspond to the royal consort of the Empress of the Shi’ar, and care for the Empire’s people as if they were your own?”

Charles’s world stopped. 

He knew he should smile; he should say _Yes, this is all I’ve ever wanted, I won’t fail you, Lilandra, love of my life, you saved me from a lifetime of misery and I owe you everything, of course I’ll marry you_. But he hesitated for a moment too long.

“You… don’t want to marry me?” Lilandra articulated, voice and face both expressing her confusion.

“I haven’t said anything!” Charles replied, surprised. 

“You don’t need to, Charles. I’m a telepath, I know what you were thinking.”

Charles crossed his arms and frowned. “And what exactly was _that_ , Lilandra?”

Lilandra smiled bitterly. “Charles, you don’t even know, do you? No wonder I didn’t realise until now, you hide it so well from even yourself. If I wasn’t paying attention I would have missed it.”

“Hide _what_?”

“You don’t love me, Charles. You never have.” Lilandra shook her head, looking to her side but not seeming to focus on anything other than her thoughts. “How did I never realise?”  
  


“Lilandra, I _do_ love you, I’ve loved you ever since -”

“Ever since the Starjammers’ ship crashed outside the gates to your mansion? Ever since we felt each other’s telepathic powers and I helped you recover from your bad breakup?” She shook her head again. “No, Charles. I’m afraid that I just realised… that was only me.”

It took Charles a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking again, his voice soft in an attempt to sound as honest as possible. “Lilandra… what you did for me… I can never repay that. My experiences with the one other telepath I know were… not very pleasant, but you - your mind, your personality, they lit a candle in my mind when it couldn’t have been darker. Without you… I would never be where I am now, and I wouldn’t -”

“Charles, please don’t misunderstand: I know you care for me. I can feel that, there’s no need to explain. But you don’t love me, and I think you never will. It was my delusion to think you did in the first place.”

“Lilandra please -”

For the first time during their whole conversation, Charles tapped into their telepathic bond to try to determine her emotions as she spoke. There was sadness, anger definitely, but also determination and a bitter calm. “We’ll talk again in a few days, Charles Xavier. Until then, I suggest you try to find what it is that you truly want, as it is obviously not me.”

And before he could say anything else, Lilandra Neramani cut the transmission.

  
  
  


\-------------------------------|x|-------------------------------

  
  
  


Charles made his way to his bedroom, tired and frustrated with the night’s events. Only two hours ago he had been watching happily as his students opened their Christmas presents. The younger children — such as Rogue (who refused to use her “human” name, something that reminded Charles painfully of Raven, or “Mystique” as she preferred these days), Kitty, Illyana, Warren, and Bobby — playing amongst themselves, and the oldest (Jean, Scott, Piotr, and Ororo) joking and talking as if they didn’t see each other everyday. 

Charles’s kids (as he liked to think of his students) were what brought happiness to him and made him glad he was alive. They gave him a purpose, and it was an enjoyable one at that, even when he had to deal with some of your typical teenager tantrums. 

He couldn’t bear to think of what could have been of his life if Lilandra hadn’t showed up when she did.

Lilandra, as she had reminded him a few minutes ago, had been travelling in the Starjammers’ ship (a group of self-styled “interstellar adventurers”) when the ship crashed outside the Xavier mansion’s gates. Charles had been… uh… consuming unsafe amounts of alcohol in his room, so he had hardly noticed the telepathic pull coming from Lilandra’s probing mind until Hank, bless his soul, had kindly let him know that there were strangers from another galaxy in the house and that he would probably need to put on some trousers. 

This was when he felt Lilandra exploring his mind like an underwater cave, and he pulled her further in as if she was his lifeboat; they explored each other like two teenagers learning the warmth of a caress.

There had been something about a Corsair and the Summers kids but that had not been very relevant to him at that moment. 

What _did_ matter to him was the clarity she had provided. The motivation. She saw into his mind and instead of pulling away or finding him disgusting (as he had definitely thought of himself), she tried to nurture him back to health (physically and mentally) and gave him something to live for. She gave him a reason to exist again. She didn’t magically cure him, nothing can do that to a person so deep in their own self-hatred, but she showed him wonders that made him remember the universe was alive and beautiful, and he found that he still wanted to do something to make his own little corner of it grow out of its bigoted shadow. All he needed was that push, and thanks to Lilandra, he had given his students a home, a place for them to feel safe and to learn about science and literature and even prepare them to fight for a better future for both humans and mutants. He was happy with his life now, most of the time.

But.

Lilandra was right about one thing. He didn’t love her. At least not like she seemed to love him.

He tried to deny it whenever a thought like that wandered into his mind, but the fact was that every time Lilandra called him “my love” or “dearest” his heart didn’t make a summersault in emotion. It ached, it scratched furiously against his ribcage; he tried to ignore it, and he was so successful that he almost never questioned that feeling anymore. But the fact remained: he didn’t love Lilandra like she loved him because he still loved someone else.

He still loved Erik Lehnsherr. 

Every time that name came to his mind he tried to send it back to a dark corner where he would keep it under lock and key and hope to never think of it again. But like a ball you threw up into the sky, it inevitably came back. Again, and again, and again. No matter how many years had passed he still thought of the man whose mind was as bright and dangerous as the sun. A sun that had burned and scarred him for the rest of his life.

He still wondered what would have happened if he had said something else on that beach in Cuba. If he had done something differently maybe he would still have him by his side, playing chess during the nights as they debated politics and philosophy, and teaching their students to control their powers during the day. 

He had never told him how he felt, and he wished so badly that he had. 

Before Cuba he was sure the other man had known, and even after the bullet had hit him in the back and he realised the kind of dangerous and slightly insane man he was actually dealing with, he had been sure that Erik had known. Until he left, and all of a sudden it was like the stars had gone out, and it dawned on him that he would never know true happiness or love again. And all because he hadn’t stopped to think that maybe he had relied too much on looks and gestures instead of words to express his feelings. Or maybe because his feelings had simply not been enough for either of them.

If he had only said something else that day -

“That’s tragic man, not gonna lie.”

Charles turned his head towards the source of the noise so quickly that he hurt his neck and let out a grunt before he rubbed it with his left hand. There, in the corner of his room sat no other than -

“Santa Claus?!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles has a conversation with Santa Claus and starts to realise something strange is going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to Christmas nonsense :) 
> 
> Thank you to all those who left comments and kuddos last time! It's always good to know this weird creation is appreciated lol, so here is the next chapter, hoper you enjoy !

It sure as hell looked a _lot_ like Santa Claus.

Red coat, black belt, red hat, stuffed belly, silver hair and beard… Yeah, if someone wanted to dress up as your classic image of Santa Claus to sneak into Charles Xavier’s house to interrupt his brooding about the love he still had for a man who was currently imprisoned in the Pentagon (for the crime of _killing the President_ ), they sure did a great job of it. 

“Sure, if you want to go with my public face, then yes I am,” Santa-Claus-or-whoever-had-dressed-up-as-him said.

“I… Uh… Wh-” Charles failed to say.

“Don’t you worry, Charley boy, it will all be all right,” Not-Santa smiled.

Charles shook his head violently to make sure the champagne from earlier hadn’t got to him. He blinked hard and then looked up at the red-clad man sitting in an armchair in the corner of his bedroom.

“Who- who are you?!”

“Well you said it yourself, my boy, and with all the marketing I don’t think there’s a lot of people you could confuse me with,” Not-Santa replied.

Charles paused as he tried to read the other man, and found a void where the man’s thoughts should have been.

“Why are you here and why… why can’t I read your mind?” Charles asked, annoyance rising.

Not-Santa smiled. “Well, I think the answer to both of those questions could be one and the same. You see, I’m a mutant, just like you!”

Charles blinked.

_What. The fuck_.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me!”

“Did I? Because I seem to think that I heard you say that Santa Claus, if that’s truly who you are, is... a mutant.”

“And you’re correct!”  
  


“All due respect, you don’t even _exist._ ” Charles emphasised, wheeling himself over to where the older man sat. He _looked_ real, at least, but he didn’t trust anyone whose mind he couldn’t read.

Not-Santa boomed out a laugh.

“Oh, dear boy, of course I do! I’m as flesh and bone as you are! I’m one of the older generations of mutants!”

Charles rubbed his right temple as he stared at the man. “Of course you are. But that doesn’t answer either of my questions, mister -” he stopped himself before he realised he didn’t actually want to call the man “Mister Claus” because 1) that sounded ridiculous and 2) this probably wasn’t real because it… _couldn’t_ be real. 

“Oh, sorry, yes, I forgot to elaborate. My mutant powers include telepathy, so I was reading your mind just now when you were thinking about a certain… metallokinetic?” Not-Santa smiled at him knowingly.

Charles blushed slightly as his chest started to ache again at the reference of his former friend. 

“And what has that got to do with anything, may I ask?” Charles said with some coldness to his voice as he tried to mask the pain he suddenly felt. 

“Absolutely everything. You see, I’m one of those people who think others should be allowed to be happy, so long as their happiness has a purity to it that does not harm anyone else. That is what I have been doing all these centuries, trying to spread happiness and granting gifts to those who I feel deserve it.” He shrugged. “The Elves help, of course, but I tend to handle the more _interesting_ cases.”   
  
From all of that explanation, Charles could only frown at the thought of elves clad in green actually travelling around the world dropping gifts down chimneys. 

“Elves?”  
  
“My cult,” Not-Santa said matter-of-factly.

“Ah.” _Of course._

“Yes, so that leads me back to you, Charles. You are definitely one case I have been looking forward to handling. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, truly, but I should be going now. I’m incredibly busy this time of year, but maybe I could drop by another day? I would _love_ to catch up on genetics, and you’re truly unparalleled in your field. I recommend you get some sleep, my boy, you have a lot to look forward to in the morning.” Santa Claus (or whoever the _fuck_ he was) winked at him. “Until next time then.”

“No, wait -”

But before he could stop him, Santa Claus jumped out of Charles’s window (which was on the first floor, conveniently for the man) and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

Charles simply stared at the window where the alleged Santa Claus had jumped from for a whole minute. Eventually he shook his head in order to clear his head and wheeled towards his drawer. He pulled out his light blue pyjamas and used all the effort he had left to change out of his current clothes and into the night garments. He wheeled into the bathroom and splashed water onto his face, blinked a few times, and then went back to carry himself out of his chair to lie on his bed. 

Charles sighed. It had definitely been a long and strange, strange day. He normally didn’t enjoy Christmas, as it always gave a pause to his generally rushed life, a pause from which he always tried to run away. But this year? This year had been _wild._

He turned off the light from the lamp on his nightstand and tried to sleep. It did not come easy, considering he had much to entertain his mind, but eventually he managed to get that sweet bliss from sleep.

And the last image his mind conjured up before drifting into sleep was that of Erik Lehnsherr staring into his eyes as he held Charles against his chest, and Charles barely took note of a tear that slid down his cheek and lost itself into the pillow beneath his head.

  
  
  


\-------------------------------|x|-------------------------------

  
  
  


Charles woke up from his dream of what ifs and could have beens and found that he felt slightly cold. He pulled his quilt to try to cover his back, which - for some reason that his foggy mind refused to try to explain - was bare. 

After a few minutes like this, he finally opened his eyes and sat up, looking around at his room. It took him longer than it should have to notice that the room was a _mess_. There were clothes strewn everywhere, and pieces of random metal on the floor that he couldn’t even begin to understand what they were doing there.

Charles frowned and then turned to carry himself to his wheelchair. Thankfully the bit of the floor he used to leave his room was mostly clear of any sort of mess, so he was able to make his way out into the corridor in search of Hank, to demand an explanation for the mess in his room. Even if he wasn’t at fault, it was always fun scaring Hank into thinking he was in trouble. It was Christmas Day so he expected the younger children to be up and about, probably playing with their new toys. 

Sure enough, as he made his way to the kitchen, guessing that Hank would be there for his first cup of coffee of the day (he was honestly too tired to bother checking with his mind), the group of children chasing Bobby’s new football ran in front of him. 

He wouldn’t have noticed the two odd children from the group if it had not been for a flash of silver and a shout of “Not fair, Pietro!” from a red-haired girl at the back of the group. 

Charles stared at the girl as the group moved out into the snowy grounds, letting the cold in. He covered himself with his blanket on his lap and kept going until he reached the kitchen, a frown on his face. 

“Hank do you know who -” he stopped himself as he saw that the person pouring coffee on a mug was not, in fact, Hank. 

The person turned around, and blue-grey eyes found his own. 

“Erik?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last time I leave a cliffhanger with Charles saying someone's name questioningly I promise !! This chapter may have been more transitional than anything, but the next two have a bit more going on in my opinion lol.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles running into Erik (in his KITCHEN no less) makes him finally acknowledge that there is something very strange at play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again! Thanks for the kuddos and comments from last chapter! I hope you all like this one, I personally really enjoyed writing it :)

Charles’s mind was racing. 

How could Erik be here? Why would he be here, _now_ ? He was supposed to be in the _Pentagon_ for Christ’s sake! And to just invite himself to coffee in his kitchen like nothing had happened? Like he hadn’t _paralysed_ him? Like he hadn’t broken his spirit to the point he had to recur to alcohol and… other addictive substances to be able to feel even slightly better about himself?

“Charles?” Erik frowned slightly at him. 

Oh, god, that voice. It wasn’t even his most distinctive characteristic, but the way he said his name, the fact that he hadn’t heard that voice in seven years… He momentarily forgot his anger as he realised just how much he had missed the sound of Erik Lehnsherr’s voice.

“Erik what… what are you doing here?” he asked, barely managing more than a whisper. 

Erik’s frown deepened, but he didn’t look angry, only confused. “Well I’m… making coffee? Charles are you -”

Charles backed up a bit, his heart aching for the touch Erik’s hand offered as Erik reached out to try to touch his forehead, probably to check his temperature. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do this, not now. Not after everything.

He looked back up to Erik’s face, finding a flash of hurt at the rejected hand, nearly successfully hidden behind his confusion. Erik had always been good at battling his emotions, for better or worse. 

Erik sighed, looking away from him. “Charles, I’m sorry about yesterday, I - I didn’t mean to - it’s just -”

But he was interrupted by Hank, who had just walked into the kitchen from behind Charles. He was in his blue form for some reason, but Charles was too preoccupied with Erik to really care about that change in appearance. 

“Morning, Charles. Erik,” he greeted, making his way to the coffee maker in front of Erik. 

Charles just frowned. Hank didn’t find it strange to have _Erik Lehnsherr_ of all people standing in the middle of their kitchen? 

_What the hell is going on here?_ Charles thought.

He cleared his throat. “Hank, come with me, we need to talk about… the newest Cerebro upgrade. Yes.” As Erik stared at Charles in disbelief and confusion, Charles averted his gaze and glanced at Hank instead, seeing that the man seemed to be about to complain. “ _Now_ , Hank.” _It’s urgent_ , he communicated telepathically.

“Sure thing, Professor,” Hank replied, not very pleased with being parted from his morning coffee. 

They left the kitchen, and only then did Charles dare to grace over Erik’s mind, to reassure himself that he was really there. It was just as he remembered it, but more serene, somehow. It was clouded with confusion and guilt, but Charles did not want to venture further in case he drowned with the overwhelming force that was Erik’s mind. 

Charles guided Hank to his study, and once they were inside, Hank shut the door. 

“What is this about, Charles, there’s no Cerebro upgrade and you know that -” Hank started.

“What is Erik doing here, Hank? And why in _God’s_ name is he drinking _coffee_ in the kitchen?!” Charles exclaimed. 

Hank stared at him. 

“Charles are you all-”  
  


“I would really appreciate it if people started answering my questions instead of asking if I’m all right, _no, I’m not BLOODY all right, Hank!_ Why the hell is Erik Lehnsherr, a man who I last saw seven years ago and who _should_ be locked up in the Pentagon, _drinking coffee in the kitchen?!_ ” 

Hank simply frowned in confusion. 

“The Pentagon? Charles, that was years ago!”

Charles returned the frown. 

“What do you mean _years_ , I didn’t travel to the bloody future, did I?” 

“Not that I’m aware, Professor.”

Charles quickly went to grab a newspaper from his desk. He actually expected it to say something like 1975 or similar, but no. There, at the top, was yesterday’s date. December 24th, 1969. 

“1969. No time travel then.” Charles looked back up to Hank, choosing to wear a severe expression on his face to communicate his disapproval of whatever prank people were playing on him. “Hank, what is going on? Do I need to read your mind to find out or are you going to tell me yourself?”

“Charles, I swear, I have no idea what you’re talking about! Erik has lived here for the better part of the last seven years!”

Seven years. _Bloody hell._ He shook his head before refocusing on Hank. “I’m pretty sure I would remember if I had been living with Erik Lehnsherr for seven years, Hank.”

Hank looked doubtful. “Charles, what is the last thing you remember before today?”

Charles thought back to his Christmas visit from the silver-haired man himself and his ears turned a little pink in embarrassment. He was _not_ going to mention that unless it became relevant. “I had a call from Lilandra and she… well, I’m pretty sure you already knew, you bastard, but she... proposed to me. For real, this time. And I… well. She basically said no for me.”

“Excuse me, what- Lilandra, as in, Her Majestrix of the Shi’ar Empire, Lilandra?” Hank asked, impressed. 

“Well, yes, how many other Lilandras do you know?”

“And she _proposed_ to you? Didn’t she already know you’re married?”

Charles froze. “I’m what?”  
  


Hank made an “O” with his mouth in realisation. “Oh no. Oh dear.”

“What, Hank, what’s wrong?”

Hank scratched his head in a nervous tic. “Charles - if you’re serious about not remembering at least the past seven years of your life… You uh… probably don’t remember this then, but… you have been married to Erik for two years.”

Charles blinked at him. He rubbed at his forehead and closed his eyes as he felt a growing headache.

“I would really like to wake up now.”

There was a moment of silence, but it was broken by Hank speaking up again. 

“Charles, I don’t know what’s happened to you, but we’ll figure it out. Maybe you were brainwashed or -”

“No, Hank. This isn’t real, it’s no use.”

Charles sensed a wave of confusion in Hank’s mind. “What do you mean? Of course this is real, I-”

“No. It isn’t.” Charles finally opened his eyes and looked up at Hank’s yellow eyes. “Even if by some strange miracle my life has been rewritten - somehow - it’s impossible that this… that Erik and I…” He frowned again as his gaze became unfocused. “Men marrying other men is not even _legal_ , Hank, and I know we haven’t always been fond of the law, but _that_? That’s one step neither of us would ever take. I’m probably just…creating this in my head. I’m one of the world’s most powerful telepaths, it’s possible.”

Hank looked uncertain. “Except it is. Real, I mean. Read my mind, it’s all there.”

Charles hesitated. He was already struggling with what had felt like a real interaction with his former... _friend_ ; he wasn’t sure if he could handle watching another life - possibly a better one at that - unfold in his mind. But, he supposed, he would never be able to figure out what was going on without even a small amount of context for this alternate life he was trapped in.

He breathed in. “All right. Show me every relevant memory you have about me. Start from the beginning. I will be your… passenger, as you guide me. I don’t think I have the energy to do the looking myself, I’m afraid.”

Hank nodded. He sat on the floor before Charles, already familiar with the dizziness that came from Charles making use of his powers. 

And Charles stepped into Hank’s mind.

He didn’t have to wait long to find memories that differed from his own. Though there were a lot of them, they all came in the form of flashes as Hank quickly went through what he remembered. Charles saw himself several times through Hank’s eyes from the moment they had met at the CIA facility, and even felt the emotions Hank linked to those memories: Charles accidentally outing Hank as a mutant and the embarrassment he had felt; Charles trying Hank’s original version of Cerebro on for the first time and his pride at his machine functioning according to his design; Charles’s face as he told Hank and the other mutant recruits at the CIA how he expected more from them, coming with Hank’s self-deprecation at disappointing him; Charles and Erik discussing their next course of action after the destruction of the CIA facility (and had Erik really been looking at him like _that_?); Hank starting to win over his self-hatred when Charles trained with him and taught him that his mutation was not wrong, that it made him special; helping Charles train the other mutants, like Sean and Alex; watching as Erik pushed Sean off that satellite and Charles looked at him like he was admiring his entire world (though Hank only seemed to notice that in retrospect). 

The beach. Cuba. Erik stopping those missiles midair. Hank stood far enough that he had not properly heard what Charles and Erik had said, but Charles remembered it clearly. “They’re just following orders,” he had argued, and oh, how he regretted those words. How naive, how tactless he had been to allow that to leave his mouth in the most critical of moments. How wrong he’d been.

He knew now. He had what he had lacked that day: maturity. He still stood by saying that killing people was wrong, in any circumstance, but he could not honestly say that Erik had been wrong in trying to defend the mutants - his _people_ \- from an imminent attack from _nuclear missiles_. He wished he had been able to reason with Erik; not to side against him, but guide him towards the peace they both dreamed of through compromise. He wished he had not been as stubborn and had instead insisted on them standing together, like they always should have. There were few things they could not achieve together; the X-Men themselves existed as proof of that. 

But that day had gone by, and there was nothing he could do to change it. 

In Hank’s memory, as in his own, Charles lunged at Erik and caused them both to fall down to the sand as they began to fight for the control of the missiles, Erik with his powers and Charles by trying to remove Erik’s helmet to use his telepathy on him. At some point during the struggle, however, Erik used his powers on Hank, Alex, and Sean, and the next time Hank was able to see Charles and Erik again, Erik was holding Charles in his arms before he tried to choke Moira McTaggert.

And that’s when the memories started to diverge.

This is what Charles remembers: 

Sand. Pain. Blue-grey eyes that spoke of brotherhood after the man they belonged to had tried to kill thousands of humans. Realising that that man - that beautiful, haunted man - could not be more different to Charles, despite how much he wished for the contrary. Abandonment, from both Erik and Raven, the closest thing he had to a sister. Erik leaving him on that beach with nothing more than a speech declaring his war on humanity.

This is what Hank remembers: 

Erik trying to kill Moira. Erik looking down at Charles in his arms and releasing his grip on the human as he stared at the other man. Moira unexplainably walking towards Charles and sitting with him on the sand as Erik stood up and spoke to the other mutants on the beach. 

_“This society won’t accept us! We stand together, and fight for the day that they will. They fear what they don’t understand, but we will_ make _them understand. Who's with us?”_

Azazel, Janos, Angel, Hank, Alex, Sean, all of them walking towards Erik. Only Raven hesitated, but soon enough she joined them as well. Once they were all together, Erik leaned down to carry Charles - away from Moira’s attention - and, with Azazel’s gift, the mutants left Cuba. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand they're married. Yep. It took me a while to figure out how to play this exactly, but when I wrote down a timeline of things that would have changed from the point of divergence to the present it just made sense. Fuck period-typical homphobia, I just want them to be somewhat happy for once :/ (except I can't stop myself from being a little bit angsty. woops).


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Hank discuss the situation, and Charles gets to meet a red-haired Maximoff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I return with a new chapter :) Thank you for the sweet comments from the last one, I love you all :')
> 
> One note that could be helpful for this chapter is that the Maximoff twins are 11 in this fic, so they were born before Charles and Erik met in First Class. I don't know if they mentioned Peter's age in Days of Future Past but for some reason I have the idea that they said that he was 15, so I just used that time reference for their ages here hehe
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Charles stepped out of Hank’s mind.

“What… the _hell_ … was that?” he asked.

“Well… that’s… what happened in Cuba?” Hank said with an uncertain tone.

“It’s not how _I_ remember it, at least.”

Hank frowned. 

“So maybe that’s the point of divergence.” He met Charles’s eyes. “Professor, I think we might be dealing with alternate universes. Like branches of a tree, something must have happened to create two different timelines... a choice that was made differently. But what could have caused you to travel from one to the other?” Hank crossed his arms over his chest thoughtfully, his gaze unfocused.

Against his will, Charles remembered what the Santa Claus lookalike had said: 

_You are definitely one case I have been looking forward to handling._

_You have a lot to look forward to in the morning._

Charles sighed. 

“Hank, I… I may have omitted something that happened last night.” Hank raised his gaze again as Charles’s words piqued his curiosity. “I don’t know if it’s related to what’s happened but… well…” He sighed again. “Santa Claus, or someone who looked remarkably like him, came for a visit.”

Hank simply stared. He stared for so long in such a quiet state that Charles started to wonder if he had even heard him.

“Hank? Did you hear what I just -“

“Did you say that _Santa Claus_ visited you during the night or was that just my imagination?”

Charles rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Look, I know it sounds ridiculous -“

“You could say that.”

“- but it happened. I don’t know how, but it did. And considering we have an unexplainable situation at the moment, I’m willing to believe they’re related. Somehow.”

“But - _Santa Claus_?”

“I _KNOW_ HANK.”

There was a pause. 

“All right, and what did _Santa Claus_ tell you?”

Charles breathed in. “Mostly he explained that he was a mutant -“ Charles ignored Hank’s huff “- and that he believed in spreading happiness to those who deserve it… or something.” He paused. “He uh… he said he liked handling the ‘interesting cases’ himself and that mine was one he ‘had been looking forward to handling’.” 

There was another pause as Hank processed the information. 

“So what you’re telling me is… Santa Claus, or whoever it is you spoke to, sneaked into your room to tell you he was ‘handling your case’, after _Empress Lilandra_ proposed to you?” Charles reluctantly nodded. “What universe do you even come from, Charles?” Charles shrugged. “All right, so if you say Santa Claus is a mutant… did he tell you what his powers were?” 

“Well, I know for a fact that he has telepathy. But he mentioned it was only part of his powers, so I don’t really know what else he’s capable of.” Charles raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he had super strength, considering all he has to carry every year.”

“Right…”

Hank stood up from the floor. “Charles I won’t pretend to know what’s happening here but… it seems like the only viable option would be to talk to Santa Claus again. He seems to be the one with all the answers.”

“And how do we do that?”

“I don’t know. But I’m going to do some research to try to figure out a way to… summon Santa Claus. Right.” He nodded as if trying to convince himself of the seriousness of the situation. “Just hang in there, Charles. We’ll get you back to where you came from.”

“Thank you, Hank.”

Hank nodded at him before turning around to leave the study. 

“Oh, and Hank?” 

Hank looked back at him again. “Yes, Professor?”

“Do you happen to know who made a mess of my room?”

Hank smiled. “I think you’ll have to ask your _husband_ about that, sir.”

Charles’s face fell. “Right. My... husband. Yes.” 

That was going to be fun.

  
  
  


\-------------------------------|x|-------------------------------

  
  
  


Charles stayed in his study for a long time; he had no idea what to do with this strange and confusing situation he'd found himself in. 

How had his alternate self changed the timeline enough that he had _married_ Erik Lehnsherr? What had he done differently? He knew from Hank’s memories that something had happened on that beach in Cuba to change Erik’s mind somehow, but thanks to the fact that Erik had thrown him, Alex, and Sean out of the way, momentarily impeding them from observing the rest of the scene, he didn’t know _what_.

The only person other than Charles who could possibly know what the hell had happened in this timeline -- a person who was conveniently close if Charles had enough courage to approach -- was Erik himself. 

Yeah. Because _that_ would work.

_Hey, Erik, dear, I’m the alternate version of your husband since Santa Claus - yes_ that _Santa Claus - decided to intervene in my life, so now I’m here! I was kind of wondering what the_ hell _happened back in Cuba? You remember Cuba, right? Fun times!_

It was laughable, really.

But having _Erik_ back…

He didn’t want to think like this. He couldn’t make sense of the whole situation yet, but he was _not_ Erik’s husband. He had not earned that, he had not lived through the relationship that had resulted in _this_ , whatever it was. And yet… he hadn’t seen Erik in seven years, and he would be a liar if he said he had not missed him, despite all that had transpired between them. Even Lilandra had managed to see it, eventually; he couldn’t run from the truth any longer.

Charles had not loved anyone romantically before Erik; of that he was sure. He had flirted, and he’d even had sexual encounters with a lot of people, but he hadn’t even gone on a proper _date_ with anyone, let alone fallen in love. 

When he had felt Erik in the sea beyond the CIA ship, he had been blown away by what he had found. Erik’s mind was focused — dangerously so — but it had also shone like a beacon beckoning to Charles. And then seeing what that man down in the ocean could do with his mutant gift (not only that, but _feeling_ his mind lash out through his manipulation of the metal around him, a focused rage such as he had never before been exposed to) drew him to Erik like a moth to a flame. He had been unable to escape it.

He had not been able to stop himself from peaking into Erik's mind -- seeing beyond what he would normally allow himself to see from other people’s minds -- during the little time he’d had before the man had almost drowned by trying to stop a submarine. Similarly, he had not been able to stop himself from jumping into the water to try to save that scarred and beautiful mind.

When they had broken the surface of the water, when Erik had looked at him and had not been afraid of his telepathy and his psychic intrusion; when his mind had, instead, rung with joy and hope; when that tortured man had said “I thought I was alone” and Charles had been more than happy to reply that he _wasn’t_ ; when Charles had looked back at the other man and had hoped that Erik understood that he didn’t have to fight his battles on his own anymore...

...That was when Charles had known that he had fallen in love. 

Yes, Charles decided. He still had a right to be angry at Erik (mostly his universe’s version of Erik. At least _this_ one had had the decency of not leaving him stranded on a beach far from medical assistance, so there was that), but he also missed the one person he had ever managed to love, and he would be _damned_ if he didn’t at least try to take this opportunity to just _be_ with him, even if for a little while. Even if it wouldn’t be permanent (and he didn’t even want to begin to think about whether or not it would be permanent and what his feelings about that were).

He lost track of time this way, thinking about how to approach this situation (and the fact that he still wasn’t very comfortable with having to pretend to be Erik’s husband when he wasn’t, not really) when the red-haired girl he had glimpsed earlier (before his awkward encounter with Erik in the kitchen) stormed into his study. 

The fact that he hadn’t detected her mind before coming in really spoke for how much he had lost himself in his own thoughts.

”Dad! Pietro stole my amulet and he ran away so now I can’t _find_ him! Tell him to give it back!” the girl shouted at Charles, clearly upset.

But Charles’s mind, unfortunately for the girl, had only taken in one word. 

_Dad???_

He stared at her for a bit longer than he assumed she thought the situation merited, because she tilted her head and frowned.

“Daddy, is everything all right?” the girl asked gently.

“Hm?” Charles blinked at her, still confused. “Oh, yes… Everything is fine, I just… yeah.” He quickly peaked into her mind to see what she had asked him and, when he realised he had no clue who “Pietro” was, searched even further to find out who the girl was referring to.

_Twins? That’s interesting._

There were some questions that the discovery raised, questions for which he would eventually search the answers, but for now he knew he needed to help the girl. 

_Wanda. Her name is Wanda._

“Daddy…?” The girl - Wanda - was getting worried. He had to say something quick.

“Sorry, Wanda, I’m strangely distracted today. Yes, I’ll try to contact Pietro and see what I can do about your stolen item.”

He didn’t need his powers to know she wasn’t fully convinced that he was actually fine, but at least she seemed to relax at knowing she would get what she had come in to ask for.

But Charles could tell that there was something else on her mind, something she was hesitant to bring up to him.

“Wanda, did you need anything else?” He prompted, hoping to make Wanda -- a girl who he had not known before that day (though he assumed his alternate self had) -- feel better and to resolve her turmoil. It was probably the more parental side of his role as a teacher that had kicked in. Perfectly natural. Obviously.

Wanda hesitated a little more before she decided to reply. “Well, it’s just… I know it’s none of our business, but Pietro and I… we overheard you and Papa arguing yesterday, and…”

Charles heard it in his mind as hers conjured the memory. 

Shouting. Specifically, he heard himself -- or his alternate self -- raising his voice, being met by Erik’s own angry tone. From Wanda’s eyes, Charles saw a boy with silver hair (who Wanda’s memories tagged as Pietro) beside him, a concerned and focused expression (with maybe a hint of anger there as well) as they both leaned against the door to their room. And then there was a loud bang, followed by silence.

The silence was eventually broken by delicate whispers which Wanda -- and therefore Charles -- could not decipher, but his own voice interrupting the whispers was perfectly clear. 

_Stay away from me!_

More silence.

The last thing Charles heard before he pulled out of the memory was the creaking of a door opening beyond what he assumed was Wanda and Pietro’s room, accompanied by fading footsteps and the slam of that same door.

Back in the real world, Wanda was avoiding his eyes as she kept talking.

“I’m just… are Papa and you mad? Did we do something? I know Pietro and I can be a mess but… we can try harder, Professor McCoy says we have a lot of potential and I know we can be better -”

_So…_ our _kids. Mine and Erik’s._

Charles shook his head, returning to the present.

He may not have known Wanda (at all) or fully understood the extension of what was bothering her, but when he felt waves of guilt coming from her, he grabbed her by the arms gently.

“Wanda? Wanda, look at me.” When she did, he continued. “You are _not_ a burden. For anyone. You are wonderful and…” He tried to search for reassuring words without having to actively lie to her. “me and your… Papa… could never -” Without meaning to, he caught her fear of abandonment, her fear of not being enough for the adults around her, and he decided that if Erik and his alternate self had actually fought about Wanda and Pietro, Erik would have to hear what he had to say about it. “ - we would _never_ abandon you. You’re part of the family, Wanda. You’re safe.”

She stared at him for a moment before she threw herself in his arms, her mind ringing with relief and joy so great that it nearly overwhelmed him. 

But the moment was interrupted by the door to his study receiving a faint knock before opening once again.

“Charles?”

Erik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for already having them have marriage arguments skjdfksdfj they haven't even had a proper conversation (so far wink wink) and I already added trouble in paradise OOPS.
> 
> ALSO I know I said I wouldn't do those kinds of cliffhangers again, but the chapter was already long for the word count I'm aiming for and I couldn't include a lot more jhkjhkjsdf I promise to release the next chapter soon to make up for it (maybe next Monday? Depends on how long I take to get to write Chapter 7 but tbh I think that one is going to be easier to write than the last few have been hehe).
> 
> Hope you have a wonderful week and if you're watching Wandavision like I am, I hope you enjoy today's episode :) Kuddos!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles tries to have a conversation with his husband and finds out the full story behind Wanda's memory of Christmas Eve.

Charles cleared his throat, removing himself from the hug he had been sharing with Wanda. 

When he looked up at Erik, he was able to catch a look of something undecipherable as he looked at Wanda leaving Charles’s arms, which was accompanied by a very subtle -- almost imperceptible -- smile. 

“Wanda, would you let your Dad and I talk for a moment? I think Kitty is playing with Bobby and Rogue outside if you want to join them.”

Wanda nodded and started to walk towards the exit, but before she left she turned around to look at Charles. She smiled, and after he returned the gesture, she left.

Even without reading his mind, Charles could tell Erik was nervous. He wouldn’t meet his eyes, his gaze instead focused on the carpet, breathing slowly as if to ground himself.

“Charles, I…” He took another breath. “I can never apologise enough for what I did, I  _ know _ that. I crossed a line. I just… I hope you can forgive me, regardless. You don’t owe me anything, not after that, but please -” he met Charles’s eyes then. “-talk to me.”

Charles was confused. He was afraid of looking into Erik’s mind to figure out what had happened the night before -- assuming that what Erik was referring to was the memory he had experienced through Wanda -- but he also didn’t know what he could say. He couldn’t forgive what he didn’t understand.

He took a deep breath, and decided to look. 

As with Hank, he saw himself, but this time from Erik’s perspective. Charles’s face was expressing annoyance at the very least, if not full-on anger. He was scowling at Erik, shouting. 

“I  _ know _ you’ve... been around, Erik, I assumed it long before you showed up with the twins, but for goodness sake!” Memory Charles tried to turn to move, but when he seemed to notice the mess surrounding him he stayed in his place.

“If you know it, then why does it bother you so much?!” Erik replied, equally frustrated.

“Knowing is not the same as liking it, as you should know!” Charles said. He took a breath and continued, his voice seemingly calmer. “She’s  _ six years old _ , Erik. You _ know  _ why that matters.”

“So I was with Suzanna during a night  _ six years ago _ , as you so adamantly point out. And? Why would it matter  _ now _ ?” His tone leveled down, but Charles recognised it as Erik’s wary tone, a tone he used when he was measuring people up, usually Charles himself. “Are you really going to turn Lorna away because of your  _ pride _ ?”

“My… pride? Erik, you idiot, of  _ course _ I won’t turn a child away simply because of her origins. The issue is not with Lorna, it’s with your - your…” He sighed. “Did it even _ matter  _ to you, Erik? Because from my perspective it seems like you took every opportunity you had to fuck everyone else, and Lorna just confirms -”

“Confirms what?” Erik’s voice rose again. “What, Charles? You’re not immaculate either, I still don’t know what even happened between you and ‘telepathic alien royalty Lilandra’ with your ‘special connection’. As far as I know you two could have been mind-fucking right in front of the children all day, it’s not like anyone can read your minds;  _ we _ don’t get that privilege.”

“It was never like  _ that  _ -”

“And even back  _ then _ , what about miss perfect human agent Moira McTaggert? The oh, so beautiful and clever Moira, you were practically inseparable -”

“Erik, you  _ bloody well know  _ that Moira and I-”

“ _ No _ , I  _ don’t _ , and frankly I’m tired of being accused of infidelity when we weren’t even  _ together _ then-”

“But you were -”

“No, I  _ wasn’t! _ ” 

As Erik shouted in anger, Charles felt Erik’s power coursing through his body before hearing a bang from Erik’s memory, but he wasn’t able to see what had happened until Erik raised his head to look for himself. The memory of his anger immediately subsided.

Charles was nearly overwhelmed by Erik’s emotions. Chief among them was horror, but Erik felt emotions so strongly (which was one of the main reasons his mind was both incredibly attractive and painful at the same time) that it took Charles a not-so-negligible amount of effort to stay inside of the memory instead of backing out into reality. 

Erik tried to approach Charles’s chair, which had been knocked back by the influence of Erik’s powers during his emotional outburst. “Charles, I -”

“Stay away from me!” Charles shouted from the floor, recoiling as best as he could in his position away from Erik’s approaching figure.

Erik stopped in his tracks immediately. He froze there, waiting for Memory Charles to speak to him, and though Charles knew he was trying to project a calm exterior, being inside his memory he was able to tell that he was anything but. Eventually, Memory Charles spoke again. 

“Go.”   
  
“Charles -”   
  


Charles’s voice next was cold.

  
“Go, Erik.”   
  
And Erik didn’t try to refuse Charles’s wishes a second time. Without another word, Erik made his way out of his -- or maybe their? -- bedroom, closing the door behind him manually, without use of his powers, and Charles could feel  _ why _ . He was afraid of what he had done, and at that moment he didn’t find joy or pride in using them anymore, which was an unusual attitude coming from the biggest “mutant and proud” advocate.

Because he had hurt the one he loved. He had hurt Charles.

  
  
  


\-------------------------------|x|-------------------------------

  
  
  


Charles returned to his own mind. Watching the memory unfold had taken mere seconds in real time, but he still felt disoriented and slightly overwhelmed by what he had seen. 

First of all, he now knew for certain that the twins were Erik’s children. There had been something familiar about Wanda’s eyes, though he hadn’t been able to pinpoint it before. But there was someone else. Lorna? He did not share his alternate self’s anger about the kids -  _ that’s because  _ you _ aren’t married to Erik, _ a taunting voice in his head told him - and he was rather looking forward to meeting the two remaining Lehnsherrs. 

Second, Charles couldn’t stop himself from feeling slightly jealous (once again) of his alternate self. What a privilege it would be that his disagreements with Erik were as “simple” as discussing the origin of Erik’s children, instead of being abandoned on a beach after being paralysed and being separated from his sister because she preferred to be with Erik instead of him. Better than not having spoken to Erik since those events took place because he had been arrested for killing the President of the United States. 

And Charles still couldn’t decide whether he should tell Erik that he came from another timeline, a timeline where they had not ended up together, but had instead grown apart. 

But Charles was weak. He wanted to believe this lie, this beautiful lie that everything he wanted was suddenly his to take, and he couldn’t bring himself to burst the bubble that surrounded the dream. 

He met Erik’s eyes. “Erik…” He couldn’t stop the smile that his lips suddenly made (which seemed to confuse Erik, who frowned slightly). He hadn’t spoken his name to the man’s face in so long (other than when he surprised him in the kitchen earlier), and the unfamiliarity with that hurt. “I forgive you.”

Erik frowned even more and seemed to be about to speak, but Charles interrupted him, speaking quickly. 

“I know it’s cold outside, but I was wondering if you’d like to take a walk with me?”

Erik blinked at Charles a few times before he broke eye contact with him and took a breath. Charles sensed Erik’s unresolved guilt -- Charles couldn’t stop himself from looking at his surface thoughts as he waited patiently for Erik’s response -- especially because he didn’t seem to believe that Charles could have actually forgiven him, but he also sensed a longing to connect with Charles again, a feeling which Charles shared, though for different reasons. 

After a few seconds, Erik looked at Charles again. Charles instinctively straightened his back and blinked once before meeting Erik’s eyes, and projected a calm and welcoming exterior. Erik smiled just a little on the edges, but when he spoke his eyes did not share it. “Of course, Charles. I could get your coat if you want?”

Charles stared at him for a moment longer, reveling in the fact that Erik was there with him, and he found that he ached. He ached for this life, for Erik patiently waiting for his response and his affection, even if not everything was perfect. (Because nothing could be, not even, apparently, this invented reality). 

“Yes. Yes, that would be splendid. I’ll…” He cleared his throat, more to hide his sudden nervousness than anything else. “I’ll wait for you by the entrance.”

Mirroring Charles, Erik stared at him for a few seconds before he nodded softly and walked out of the study. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little shorter but I hope you enjoyed it!  
> I might slow down the pace a bit (I might settle for Sunday updates, let's see how it works) because I'm back to school and it's going to get a little busy for me :/ But I'm still determined to write this, especially because of the comments I've had for my silly writing hahahsd   
> Thank you so much to everyone leaving commonts and kuddos, they make me so happy when I get the notifications :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik FINALLy get to have a heart-to-heart moment that they both obviously needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Bit late in the day for the update but here it is, hope you enjoy this little moment between our favourite gay disasters :)

When Erik joined him at the entrance of the mansion, Charles took the coat he offered him and put it on, expecting the cold Christmas climate to be worse outside (how did the children stand it? They could get sick, for Christ’s sake). Erik barely met his eyes when he thanked him for the coat, but that was okay, Charles thought. Well… probably not okay, considering Erik’s constant villainization of himself every time he made a mistake. But still, Charles loved Erik for his issues as much as his qualities, and he was more than willing to support this alternate Erik for as long as he could. Be there for him in a way that he couldn’t be in his own reality.

Erik opened the door for Charles, and he immediately felt the biting cold of the wind. Thankfully there wasn’t much of it; the sun was out, and the light reflected by the snow created a stunning landscape that called to them. When he wheeled out, Charles smiled at the sight of Kitty and Illyana cuddling under a blanket while they sat on the edge of the frozen fountain. He looked to the opposite end of the lawn and noticed Rogue playing football with Warren and Bobby - using sticks as goalposts - along with a little green-haired girl who Charles didn’t recognise. He didn’t give it much thought, though, already used to the idea of things being a little different than in his home reality. And surprisingly for him as well, two other people he did not remember seeing in… a few years, were standing side by side, watching the children play. Alex Summers and Sean Cassidy. When they saw him and Erik by the door they waved at him, and he slowly waved back, processing the fact that they were both there in the mansion as if nothing had happened.

Of course. They wouldn’t have had any reason to leave if they had all stayed together after Cuba. Because with Erik there, the alternate version of Charles probably didn’t have any reason to drive them away. 

One more reason why this was a better reality than Charles’s own.

_One you can’t have._

Charles shook his head. He sensed Erik walking behind him as he joined him and paused when he stood next to Charles’s wheelchair. When Charles felt his old friend’s gaze he pretended not to notice and cleared his throat as he started to wheel himself through the path, which had already been cleared of the snow that had probably covered it before.

“Such a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Charles said, sounding strange to his own ears. The _weather_ , really? 

Out of the corner of his eye, Charles noticed Erik grimace slightly. “I was never very appreciative of snowy days. Snow always made things more difficult when I was a boy.”

_Stupid, stupid, stuid! Of_ course _it did, what a stupid thing to say._

“Of course. It’s not particularly forgiving, I suppose,” Charles replied, internally chiding himself for his stupidity. “Still! Appropriate for the season.” 

He sensed Erik being hesitant as he kept his head low, a grey coat over his purple turtleneck, a detail which, despite the situation, made Charles smile out of the corner of his mouth. Charles wanted to encourage Erik to speak his mind, but as a telepath he had learned to allow people to make their decisions about what they wanted to share, as otherwise thoughts did not have a solid, conscious decision supporting them. He knew that thoughts become ephemeral and meaningless if the person did not decide to express them, but that didn’t make Charles any less curious or anxious.

Erik cleared his throat and stopped walking beside Charles. “Charles, I want you to know that I’m sorry -”  
  
Charles stopped as well and turned to face the other man. “I already said I forgive you, my friend, you need not worry about it anymore-”   
  
“Let me finish. Please.” There was a pause during which Erik met Charles’s eyes before he turned his head back to the ground amid Charles’s agreeing silence. “I apologise for…” - a deep breath - “for using my powers to.. to hurt you. I didn’t mean for that to happen but… it _did_ , and it sickens me that I could hurt you any more… any more than I already have.” He scratched his eyebrow slightly, an anxious tic of his. “And I realised… I hurt you even before this. Maybe not physically, not like this, and you’ve been a wonderful father to Wanda and Pietro, so please don’t think that I’m unappreciative of your efforts, but regardless -” 

Knowing exactly where Erik was going with all this, Charles interrupted. 

“No, no, no. Erik, no.”

“Charles -”  
  
“No, Erik! You don’t need to explain. If you want to tell me something, you are completely free to do so, my friend, but please don’t feel like you owe me any kind of explanation for who you decided to… to be intimate with. Yes we’re…” Charles flinched slightly before he said the word, unaccustomed to the situation. “... _together_ now, but that doesn’t mean I _own_ you. That’s preposterous, and honestly, it was wrong of me to imply otherwise.”

“But Lorna -”

“Listen to me, Erik. I don’t know when, and I don’t know how, but I don’t need to.” Erik met his eyes again, and Charles swallowed, feeling the need to reach out to Erik, even if only this version of him. “I have you here and now, and that’s more than I could ever wish for.”

Silence. Rare were the times when Charles had managed to leave Erik speechless back before Cuba, so he was not used to his silence, but he gave him the time he seemed to need to process what Charles had said. 

So intently was he staring at Charles that Erik didn’t even seem to blink. He didn’t need to read his mind to take notice of the emotional turmoil that he was experiencing, but he knew that he had to let him process everything by himself. When he finally spoke, Erik’s tone was soft, sincere, the most vulnerable Charles had heard him since he helped him develop his skills with the satellite dish such a long time ago.

“It took me a long time to realise how I felt, Charles. Part of that… part of figuring that out, of coming to terms with that was that I didn’t think… I didn’t think it was right, that there must have been something wrong with me.” He smiled half-heartedly. “I was trying to distance myself from you, after Cuba, after being so close to giving in to what you offered, to what you represented in my head. I was scared of that. That’s when… that’s how Lorna... happened.” He paused, as if waiting for Charles to react negatively, but when he saw that Charles was not about to chastise him, he continued. “Then I realised… whether you reciprocated or not, I didn’t care. You were - are - everything to me, and I would not trade anything for our relationship. If you were willing to love me in any capacity despite everything I’ve done, everything I did to you, I was going to stay at your side for as long as you’d have me. That remains true for me.” 

Erik paused again, but he did not break eye contact, as if to make a point. He knelt on the snow before Charles, so that their eyes were more levelled. When he spoke, he articulated every word slowly and carefully. “I have never talked about it before, and it’s in part because I had not fully accepted who I am, not until now. Because I’ve realised how lucky I am to love you, Charles Xavier. How lucky I am to be your husband.”

Charles’s head spun.

“Erik…”

Erik smiled. “Yes, Professor?”

Charles rolled his eyes, smiling in return. “Oh _shush_ , you idiot.” 

They stared at each other for a few moments, both smiling pleasantly, rejoicing from each other’s affection. And that’s when Charles made a choice. 

He didn’t care. He didn’t care that his Erik was locked away in the Pentagon after killing Kennedy. He didn’t care that he had taken his sister and only family with him. He didn’t care that Erik had practically abandoned him to his fate in Cuba. 

He just wanted Erik back.

And you know what? Why _shouldn’t_ he take advantage of the situation that was literally modelled to fulfill his heart’s desire? Why shouldn’t he take the opportunity to be with this Erik the way he couldn’t with his own? 

_Fuck it._

“Erik?”  
  
Erik smiled even wider at the sound of his own name. “Charles?”   
  
“Kiss me.”

And Erik did.

It had always been there. That spark. Charles had felt it practically from the moment they had met, but he had never presumed to take more steps than Erik had been comfortable with. He had been patient. But he had still known that the spark had been there, that they both wanted what it promised, and that if they allowed themselves to explore it, it would be beautiful.

He had not been able to imagine what kissing Erik Lehnsherr would actually feel like. 

Charles hardly romanticised kisses. He had kissed a lot of people - probably more than he remembered anyway, considering how many drunken blackouts he’d had during college - and though he remembered them being pleasant, there hadn’t been much more to them than that.

Erik not only knew what he was doing when he caressed Charles’s cheek as they kissed, but he also transmitted a tenderness and affection that Charles had never actually experienced before. He was sure that his alternate self had had many moments like this with Erik, being his husband, but for him it felt like the culmination of a relationship that had started in the seas of the Atlantic. Erik’s trust and love in him was all he had craved from the moment they had met, and it was something that he was now receiving, even if this was not the one he should probably have done it with.

It was perfect.

Unfortunately, they were interrupted. 

“Ewwww!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they fINALLY did it lads. i'm so happy they got there :')  
> In case it doesn't seem very logical that Erik would only have this conversation now, I basically made up in my head that Erik and others (a combination of the X-Men and the Brotherhood like Mystique, Havok, and Emma) were mainly out on missions during those first years and that's why he didn't learn to deal with Charles for a bit, and even when they got married he still struggled with himself and what he wanted, so I hope that makes more sense.  
> But yeah ! finally they got to talk like two mature people i'm so proud  
> See you guys for the next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles reconsiders his actions and goes into a mild panic, during which he talks to Hank... and another telepath he did not expect to encounter in this timeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops this one is a bit on the long side, but words went brrr and I didn't have the heart to split it jhfsdf.  
> Hope you enjoy!

“Lorna!”

Erik broke the kiss as soon as he heard the voice coming from their side, turning to the little green-haired figure in surprise. His cheeks were slightly red, Charles noticed, but he didn’t know if the cold was to blame rather than anything else. 

Erik cleared his throat as he seemed to compose himself. “Lorna, sweetie, did you need anything?”

“You promised to show me the house when you were free! Can I see it all now pleaseeeeeee?” Lorna pleaded, looking at Erik.

Erik looked back at Charles, who had been, in turn, observing Lorna with tremendous curiosity. Lorna didn’t look very much like Erik (especially _not_ with the uniquely green hair), but regarding her as Erik’s child still warmed his heart. It was curious to him that Lorna did not know her way around, but with a simple look into her mind Charles found that she had in fact only arrived the day before, just before Erik and Charles had walked away… presumably to have their somewhat heated discussion.

He met Erik’s eyes briefly and nodded to him once before speaking. He really didn’t have an issue with them walking around the mansion, especially not if it was to become Lorna’s home. 

“You two go ahead, I need to see a boy about an amulet,” he smiled, especially when Lorna finally met his eyes and he was able to appreciate the joy and excitement in them. But he did need to have a talk with Wanda’s brother to sort out that particular problem.

“Charles, are you sure -”

_You need to form a bond with her. She trusts you for now but… you need a foundation between you,_ Charles projected.

_But what about you?_

The fact that Erik considered him to be important enough that he wanted Charles to form an equally strong relationship with his daughter was stupidly adorable and honouring, but he knew that Erik should have the chance to bond with his daughter in a more intimate way, without him in the way. 

_Later. Right now you should be with her._

Charles felt a wave of love coming from Erik, and he knew he appreciated the freedom Charles had apparently given him to raise his children with him despite their argument from the day before. Or the one Erik had had with Charles’s alternate self. Whatever. 

“Yes, I’m sure, old friend. I trust I’ll see you two at dinner?” he finished, starting to wheel away.

Erik smiled at him, his expression radiating such affection that Charles’s will to leave was nearly diminished. “We’ll be there.”

“Splendid. Now if you’ll excuse me…” he said as he left the scene, fighting the urge to look back at Erik and his - their? - six-year-old daughter.

  
  
  


\-------------------------------|x|-------------------------------

  
  
  


It wasn’t easy tracking down Pietro. The silver-haired little monster had a mind unlike any Charles was accustomed to; it was all over the place, and it processed information as fast as Charles had seen him run before in the morning (which was an interesting power, in Charles’s opinion; the way in which such a power could be expressed…), so it was a bit disorienting to say the least. Add to that the fact that he couldn’t _keep still_ , and Charles had a bit of a problem. 

He did manage to connect with him at one point and send him a telepathic request to meet him in his study (he couldn’t really go up to Pietro’s cave in the attic). Pietro didn’t refuse, but he did seem to have an idea of why Charles was reaching out to him and he felt a bit sheepish at being caught. Or having been told on by his sister. 

When Pietro walked in Charles was astounded by his similarity to Erik, but he couldn’t help but notice the difference in his attitude; he was more carefree than Erik would ever allow himself to be. Of course, he was only in his early teenage years by Charles’s estimation, but it still hurt, considering he had seen Erik’s memories of being the twins’ age. 

Regardless, Charles spoke to Pietro about Wanda’s stolen amulet and warned him that if he didn’t return it to his sister he would _know_ , though in truth he could hardly keep up with his mind most of the time; he just hoped his alternate self had not revealed _that_ yet.

The speedster simply smiled with all his teeth (...was that Erik’s smile?) and ran away. Charles took that as a “yes, sir” and made a note to himself to check on Wanda later to see if Pietro had actually done as he was told.

Erik having kids was not something Charles had ever thought about before awakening to this reality, but he could see how much they helped him already. Erik would never allow anything to happen to these kids; he would never allow them to go through anything remotely similar to what he had. While Charles knew this could be a double-edged sword, he thought that, in general, it was better for him. And he was happy for him. 

And the fact that even with those sharp protective instincts in place Erik still trusted him to be the second father figure for his children…

_Not_ you. 

What had he done? Was he already starting to assimilate to a reality and a status quo that weren’t _his_ ? Why had he taken advantage of this Erik like that? All that trust, all that love, it was beautiful, enticing, but it wasn’t for _him_. He hadn’t earned any of it. 

He needed to get out. He needed to leave this reality before he became too attached to it. Before he did something worse that he would later regret. 

He found Hank’s mind and made his way to the library to meet him.

“Hank, please tell me you have something,” Charles said as he opened the door, making Hank jump in surprise. 

Hank turned around to face Charles, a concerned look on his face. 

“Charles! I wasn’t-”

“Expecting me so soon? No, you probably weren’t.” Charles approached Hank, who stood next to a bookcase, Charles Dickens’s _A Christmas Carol_ in his hand. Charles frowned. “Really, Hank?”

“Look, I have officially run out of rational ideas,” he replied, tired.

Charles sighed. “Have you found anything even remotely helpful?”

Hank shook his head. “Other than Washington Irving saying that Santa Claus basically influenced the creation of New York and an account of a Sergeant Nick Fury, Captain Steve Rogers, and James “Bucky” Barnes rescuing Santa from the Nazis during the war, not really.”

Charles frowned incredulously. “Okay, first of all, what the _fuck_ , and second, how is that HELPFUL, Hank?”

“I’m considering any accounts of real events involving Santa Claus as ‘helpful’ at this point.”

Charles rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Well, I don’t. Keep looking.”

Hank sighed. “Charles, maybe there is no way to contact Santa Claus. Everything I’ve read so far since he appeared as a legendary figure involves him only on the 24th of December, so maybe…” He took a breath. “Maybe it’s impossible to talk to him outside of that date, which would mean -”

A year. An entire year of a fake life. 

“No. No, Hank, that’s unacceptable. I can’t stay here for that long, there _has_ to be a way to contact him, I have to -”

“What you have to do, Charles Xavier, is stop lying to your fucking husband.”

Charles turned his head to the entrance to the library. 

“Emma! We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow!” called Hank from his spot next to Charles.

“We managed to get the kids to their families quick enough,” Emma Frost replied, her gaze unwaveringly meeting Charles’s. “Besides, a few of us were anxious to get back for Christmas Day. Wouldn’t want to miss it.”

There was a silence that Charles could only describe as “intense”. Frost did not stop staring at him, calculating, and Charles returned the glare, trying to ascertain Frost’s role in this other reality. With her mental shields up, however, it would take him some effort to gather that information, especially so without her noticing. Nearly impossible.

Meanwhile, Hank seemed to think the situation was more awkward than anything else. “Right! Well, I’m glad you’re back, Emma, I… I think I’ll go welcome the others home, I’m sure they’re exhausted... Excuse me…” he finished as he made his way towards the exit, his blue form contrasting Frost’s all-white outfit as he walked past her.

Only then did Charles break eye-contact with Frost. “Hank, no, wait...!”

But Hank had already shut the door behind him. 

Charles sighed. 

“Human books won’t help you with your predicament, Charles. If that bearded legendary fashion disaster is truly a mutant, you should know not to waste your time. Or Hank’s, really.”

“Did Hank -?”

“I read his mind while you two were talking inside.” She chuckled. “Now, tell me… why Santa Claus?”

“I - that’s - frankly, Frost, I don’t think that’s _any_ of your business,” Charles replied, secretly embarrassed at even the thought of explaining his encounter with a man who claimed to be Santa Claus for a second time. 

“‘Frost’? You really are someone else, huh?” she smiled, her eyes searching his, curious. 

_How…?_

“Hang on, what did you mean by ‘stop lying to your husband’?” Charles said as he shook his head, avoiding the question posed by the blonde. 

“Honey, I may not be able to read your mind under most circumstances, but it doesn’t take a high-calibre telepath to pick up on your emotional distress regarding Lehnsherr. I’d be surprised if Jean hasn’t, really,” she said after rolling her eyes. 

Charles swallowed. There was no point in hiding anything now. “Hank and I believe that I come from a different reality. I woke up today and all of my life had changed, down to what happened in Cuba.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Cuba? Really?”

Charles frowned. “Yeah, really. I went through Hank’s memories of ‘62 and most of that coincided with my own memories, except for the fact that I very clearly remember being abandoned on that damn beach by the man who is now apparently my husband,” Charles vented, immediately regretting having done so. Emma Frost’s presence unnerved him, and her already knowing so much of what he had tried to keep between Hank and him made him even more uncomfortable. He really hadn’t counted on having another telepath around to mess with his plans, _especially_ not Emma Frost.

That was another element of mystery in this entire affair. Why was she even there? Charles knew that in his reality she had been recruited by the Brotherhood at some point after Cuba, but assuming the Brotherhood had never been formed in this timeline, what was she even doing out of the CIA’s facilities? 

Frost’s left eyebrow shot upwards even further, a curious smile on her lips. “Really…”  
  


Charles rolled his eyes. “Could you stop saying that?”

She ignored him. “And do you plan on telling your not-husband the truth anytime soon?”

“Why does it matter to you what I tell Erik?”

“Charles, I hardly care about your relationship drama, I was there for quite enough of it this decade and I would rather stay out of it as much as I can.”

“But?”  
  
“But Lehnsherr has been my -” she coughed, as if what she was about to say disgusted her, “my _friend_ for quite a bit, and I’ll be damned if I let Charles Xavier - not even the correct version of him at that - hurt him; he deserves to at _least_ know who he’s fucking.”

Charles broke eye contact and felt himself start to blush. “For Christ’s sake, Frost…”

She audibly rolled her eyes. “ _Fine_. He deserves to know who he’s allowing near his kids. If you’re anything like our Charles, you’ll agree with me.”

Charles met her gaze again and blinked at her. She was right, of course. As he had noted before, Erik had given him trust that he had no right to accept without at least being honest with him.

But since when had Emma Frost and Erik been friends? 

Wait, _had_ they been? Even back in Charles’s reality?

He hadn’t talked to his Erik, after all. He really did not know what Brotherhood meetings looked like; for all he knew they could have included beer and pizza and heart-to-hearts.

“Honey, you have _got_ to keep those emotions of yours under control, you’re projecting again,” she said, bringing him out of his thoughts momentarily.

“Well, it’s hardly _my_ fault to have woken up to a reality where I’m married to the man I love - to whom I haven’t spoken in years in my own timeline, if I might add - without any explanation to what led up to that, is it?!” Charles snapped. 

Frost studied him for a few seconds before she seemed to make up her mind. “Well then. I suppose you’ll have to learn your past to have a standing chance against yourself, won’t you?” She smiled. “Luckily, I’m an _excellent_ teacher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I realise that maybe having Raven speak to Charles would have made more sense in the prequel films era, but :/// what can I say, I'm an Emma Frost stan :)  
> Also that mention of Steve, Bucky and Fury rescuing Santa Claus from the Nazis? I wish I had made it up, I really do. But no. Apparently marvel wiki thinks it's funny to keep slapping me in the face with weird comics facts about Santa Claus :/  
> Thank you for the continued support for this fic, that's what keeps me motivated :) See you next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first multi-chapter fic so I haven’t figured out an updating schedule yet but I have three more chapters in store at least lol. 
> 
> Please comment!! As I said, this is my first multi-chapter fic so I would love to have some feedback or just a quick note if you liked it. Kuddos are also very appreciated:))
> 
> Feel free to talk to me on twitter and/or tumblr: @spacefleet501


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